


Plenty of Time.

by Kali Cephirot (KaliCephirot)



Category: Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Car Sex, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman, PWP, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 20:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliCephirot/pseuds/Kali%20Cephirot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex in a buggy is already a bad idea when you are sixteen, but Clint kind of likes his bad ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plenty of Time.

**Plenty of Time.**

Sex in a buggy is already a bad idea when you are sixteen: no room for legs anywhere, or arms, you always knocked something – or someone – somewhere and really, the only reason why anyone ever bothered with sex in a car was because you didn't have any other place to do it. 

Technically, he and Kate do have more places: there's his place, of course, or hers, or, hell, even an hotel room if they wanted to risk a pap photo since Kate was a favorite of them since she had turned eighteen which, really, was another one of the reasons why having sex in a car was a terrible idea.

But Clint kinda loves his bad ideas and they, more often than not, end up in great things, and one of those great things is, apparently, getting Kate to moan like that when he pushes the heel of his hand against the seam of her jeans so that it presses just so against her crotch. She kisses him hard for that, biting his lip a bit.

“If you don't have anything on you, I'm killing you with a spoon,” Kate moans, cheeks flushed. Clint moves his hand from between her legs to pull at her top, untucking it from her jeans.

“Katie, you offend me. Would Hawkeye not be prepared in any situation?”

“You're doing that thing again when you say 'Hawkeye' and forget it also applies to me,” Kate says with a roll of her eyes, but Clint can't tease her much more when she's lifting her hips to push her jeans and underwear off, then moving to straddle him.

“Could never forget that, Katie,” he promises. That makes her smile all pretty like before she leans down to kiss him again, to remind him who's the boss – as if he needed that reminder either.

But then he has an armful of warm Kate, moving his hands underneath her shirt and he would love to take her top off too, but the jeans are already risky enough for this, so he contents himself with feeling the bumps of her back, sliding one hand to cup her breast through her bra, thumb rubbing at her nipple just to feel the way it always made her grind against him.

Kate pulls away with a harsh breath, swallowing, then giving him a smile that makes warmth spread everywhere Kate's touching him right now. “Condom. Or you're going home with your jeans soiled.”

He almost laughs, because, really, whoever thinks that he is the one calling the shots in this relationship, has never met Kate Bishop.

But instead he says a “Yes, ma'am,” unbuttoning his jeans and pushing jeans and boxers just low enough to free his cock, rolling on the condom, Kate helping him with a couple of nice, slow strokes until he's shifting, pushing slowly against her hand until it's he who's moaning, head thrown back, Kate biting at his neck just hard enough that the next time the Avengers meet, he'll be getting looks about it.

“C'mon, Hawkeye,” he breathes, licking his lips. “You're being mean.”

She laughs, right against his ear, teeth tugging at his earlobe, her hand still stroking him, moving close enough that she can rub the head of his cock against her folds, and he is no way proud enough not to admit that he whimpered. 

“I'm sorry, Hawkeye, what was that?”

“I want you so bad, Kate, please.”

Clint loves watching the way heat flares in Kate's eyes like that, loves it even more when she moves to rock down onto his cock and the way she tries to keep her eyes open, looking at him as she takes him in her body, but there is always a point where her eyes flutter shut and she bites her lip that makes Clint ache with need for her. 

“God, Kate,” he moans, a hand on her hip, moving it just so that he can rub at her clit a bit to feel how she tightens all around him.

“Something like that, I guess,” she says with what, he guesses, was supposed to be a grin but it comes much softer, full of something that Clint is pretty sure neither of them wants to think about just then. 

So instead he leans up into her, squeezing her breast, searching her mouth. She kisses back hard, hands curled on his shoulders so she can ride him, rocking her hips in deep, demanding thrusts , and neither of them is going to last long like this, he knows, which is a real good thing since sex in a car was never meant for more than a quicky.

They break the kiss to breathe, Clint leaning his head against Kate's shoulder, the angle making her feel so tight around him, and he moves his thumb again to press against her clit, 

“Yes, like that,” Kate moans, then actually moves one hand to join his, to move his fingers when and where she needs them, just like he needs them and Clint has a fleeting moment to wish he could see that at the same time of wanting to see Kate come and then it's he who's coming, thrusting in deep of her, face pressed against her neck where she smells like his shampoo. 

She's not done yet when he flops back on the seat, still rocking hard against him, still pressing his fingers against her clit: it always takes her a bit longer, which is fine, just perfect, because it means that Clint, still catching his breath, gets to see the exact moment that Kate's orgasm hits her, how her mouth slacks and be completely aware of the lovely way it feels as she tightens and shudders all around him.

He waits while she catches her breath and, when Kate opens her mouth, moves both her hand and his to his mouth to lick at her taste.

Kate gives a soft, breathless laugh. 

“Stop that, there's no way we have room for that, Clint.”

“All job and no fun makes for two cranky Hawkeyes, Hawkeye,” Clint says, moving a hand to hold unto the condom as she rocks up, then moving to flop down over her seat. “And I'm just saying, there's always tonight for that.”

The same something from before peeks from Kate's eyes as she smiles at him, that something that, one of these days, Clint knows is going to get them in troubles. But it's still early enough in this whole thing that he can pretend he didn't see it, the same way he thinks Kate pretends it's just not there.

Yeah. Definitely plenty of time.


End file.
